by ML Michaels
He took in his breath as she covered his hand with hers and squeezed his fingers tight.
“Believe me Carver, I know exactly how you feel,” she assured him, adding with a heartening smile, “It seems as if we both have storms to weather, true. And since you’re so generously willing to help me with my problem—well maybe, just maybe, I can help you with yours. Sound good?”
It was her turn to take in her breath moments later, as Carver’s head rose in an artful flourish and he grasped her hand warm and tight in his own. Then, gracing her with a tender smile, he surged forward to seize her lips in a hot, passionate kiss.
His full, moist mouth caressing hers with smooth sensual strokes, her lunch date plied her lips with the sweetest of kisses as she gasped her surprise.
This gasp evolved to some excited moans moments later, as their tongues met and entangled between them. With intense hunger she leaned into his kiss, smacking her mouth against his as his long, wet tongue laved the roof of her mouth.
“Um, ‘scuse me you two.”
Their intimate expression was disrupted moments later, as an expected visitor arrived at their table at exactly the wrong time.
Their server for the day, a short young man with thick brown hair and an all knowing smile, set before them a steamy tray of grilled chicken wraps.
“Better eat these before they get cold,” he advised the abashed couple, adding as he rushed to refill their fresh drained cocoanut cups, “And if you yourself need some cooling off, then by all means—have some more tropical punch.”
Waiting in silence for the smirking young man to hurry up and make his departure, the couple finally dissolved in laughter as they considered their misdeeds.
“OK then, so while I’ve written my fair share of fictional scenes that involve kisses—and other various and a sundry misdeeds—in public places, I can’t say that I’ve ever actually acted out one of those scenes,” Clarissa admitted, adding as she took a long hard sip of appropriately titled passion punch, “First time for everything, I guess.”
Carver shook his head.
“I am so sorry about that, Clarissa,” he apologized, adding as he squeezed her hand across the table, “That kiss was way out of bounds and totally unprofessional.”
Clarissa nodded.
“It was indeed,” she declared, a firm finger raised for emphasis. “And I sincerely hope that you do it a number of more times throughout the course of our little arrangement here.” She paused here, adding as she raised her glass in a most ceremonious toast, “Here’s hoping!”
She grinned as Carver met these words with a hale and hearty salute.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted, adding with a stately bow, “I am at your command.” He paused here, adding as he inclined his head in her direction, “Just know that, for the time that I’m with you, you’re not going to have one bit of privacy. I plan to stay hard and fast by your side, every day and every night.”
He said these last words in a low sultry tone that sent tingles down her spine.
“Well I certainly have no objections to that concept,” she allowed, adding as she cleared her throat loudly, “Just you know I plan to turn in early tonight. Tomorrow I have a book signing scheduled at Rhonda’s Reads.” She paused here, adding with a bright smile, “I really cherish every opportunity to meet with my fans. And since my Christmas release, ‘A Love of Snowbirds”, just hit the shelves, I know we’ll have a lot to talk about—plus Rhonda has been a good friend of mine for ages.”
Carver thought a moment, then nodded.
“Well it does sound like a cool event, and I hereby insist that you reserve a copy of that book for me—personally autographed, of course,” he told her with a smile, adding in a more serious tone, “I’m just not so sure that a public event is a good idea for you at this point. This, I assume, is a well-advertised event; one at which you’ll be out in the open and very vulnerable.”
Clarissa sighed.
“No place is safe for me right now, Carver,” she reminded him, adding with a gesture of sheer frustration, “Roger knows where I live now, and he knows from experience the places I like to frequent, including this very restaurant.”
With these words she leaned forward, pinning her protector with a meaningful stare.
“My ex-boyfriend wants to frighten and intimidate me—that’s the whole point of this sick little exercise. If I allow this man to control my life,” she asserted with a firm nod, “then in some ways, he has already taken it.”
Immediately her companion grabbed hold of her hand, bringing it to his full moist lips for a warm resounding kiss.
“Of course you’re right Clarissa—not to mention brave and strong. You don’t know how much I love…that.” He sputtered a bit, going on quickly, “I’ll just go to the signing with you. Maybe I can be the person who hands you your books as you sign them, or who collects money from your readers as they buy those books.”
Clarissa shook her head.
“Judging from past experiences at this store, Carver, Rhonda will be the person who fulfills that role—all the while insisting loudly in my ear that I add sales tax on to every blasted order.” She paused here, adding as she pinned him with a sly smile that he knew meant trouble, “Why don’t we just introduce you to my fans as my cover model?”
With these words she froze in her seat, biting her lip as she considered these words.
“Of course, knowing some of my fans, we may have to hire an extra security guard for this event,” she mused, adding as she clutched her hands before her, “And for you.”
Carver rolled his eyes.
“Oh OK, I suppose I could pose as your cover model,” he agreed in a reluctant tone, adding as he raised a firm finger for emphasis, “I refuse to wear any excessive hair spray or chest oil for this assignment—not even for you.” He paused here, adding as he raised his firm chin in a strong slow of masculine pride, “Marines don’t primp. Blast it.”
***
Later that evening Carver and Clarissa retired to her beachfront bungalow; a small but luxurious home adorned in a classic Victorian style—kissed with just a hint of tropical flavor.
After ensuring that all doors and windows were locked and secured, Carver checked the premises and even Clarissa’s computer for any signs of cameras, spyware, cracked or broken windows, or any other breech of personal security that might be threatening the safety of his client.
Clarissa admired his intense stare and sleek catlike moves that punctuated this exhaustive search. His very presence reinforced her newfound feelings of safety and security.
“Well I have to admit it, this guy is good,” he admitted, his frustrated sigh signaling the end of a long, intense search. “Ah, but I’m better. I’m going to make sure that this monster leaves you alone. Whatever it takes, Clarissa, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
After taking Carver on a quick tour on her own private haven, she showed him to his guest room; a room that shone ebullient as a lavender dream, brimming as it was with brocade lined walls, polished cherry wood furniture, soft plush carpeting, and—the piece de resistance—a lush canopied bed adorned in grand fashion with a delicate lace coverlet.
“Now I have no formal military training, to speak of,” Clarissa told Carver, shuffling her feet beneath her as she added, “but I do believe I shall hazard a wild guess and assert that this room bears bloody little resemblance to a Marine-style barracks. True this?”
She took in his breath as he turned toward her with a bold smooth flourish; staring deep into her eyes as he placed two tender hands on her arms and drew her closer to him.
“This room is perfect for me,” he released on a whisper, “because it reminds me of you.”
Her breath released as he graced her lips with a whisper soft kiss.
“Go to bed now and rest Clarissa,” he urged, running a soft soothing hand through the strands of her golden blonde hair. “Sleep deep and dream sweet, knowing that your
protector is near.”
Following this directive, his charge then retired to her own boudoir, a lush and lovely pastiche of pink jacquard curtains, ivory-corniced furniture and soft plush carpeting. Her favorite accent of this sweet personal refuge took the form of a centerpiece bed swathed in pink lace and overseen by a radiant pearl lined canopy.
Relaxing with a relieved sigh into its silken sheets, she pulled the covers up under her chin and contemplated a night of sweet dreams; one unfettered by the bounds of fear that had held her captive for the past few weeks.
One filled, or so she hoped, with pleasing visions of the protector who offered her this divine sense of security.
Letting loose with a dreamy sigh as she collapsed in a cocoon of heavenly softness, she pictured the azure eyes and midnight black hair of the man in the next room; hearing his deep sonorous voice in her head as she pictured his hard masculine body entangled with her own--joining her in this luxurious refuge as he held her closer than close and kissed her lips senseless.
This heated fantasy lulling her senses even as it made her heart pound, she drifted off into a state of respite that lingered on the border of some much needed refreshing sleep.
She awoke with a jolt moments later, her eyes flying open at the sound of footsteps just outside her door.
Bolting upright in bed, she balled her fists beside her as she listened closely to the subtle but evident movement; a soft sound that nonetheless thundered through her mind as she leapt from her bed and stole with her own subtle steps in the direction of the door.
Reaching down to the doorknob to secure the lock that would help ensure her safety in the wake of the unknown, she took a deep breath and called out, “Who’s there?”
“It’s Carver.”
The sound of that familiar but still mysterious voice liberated her breath; causing her to let loose with a sigh of relief and swing open the door before her.
Standing tall and statuesque in the shadow of her doorway, Carver bore a stirring likeness to a nocturnal wraith sent to lure and tempt her.
“What did you need?” she asked him, voice barely above a whisper.
Answering her question with a wicked smile, Carver allowed the words to linger between them as he seared her with a penetrating stare.
Finally, though he took a deep sustaining breath and said, “I thought I might stand guard out your door for the duration of the night—so if a threat did arise, I’d be there to confront it.”
Clarissa smiled.
“Well I thank you for your consideration Carver, but I gave you a bedroom for a distinct reason—so you can, you know, sleep once in a while,” she assured him, adding with a playful wink, “Besides, I have to make sure that my new cover model looks nice and well rested for his first big public appearance.”
She took in her breath as Carver surged inward, searing her lips with a wet hot kiss that stole her breath.
“For you, babe, I can turn on the romance anytime,” he promised her, adding as he left her with a cryptic smile, “And truth be told, I don’t sleep. Especially not when I feel someone calling out to me in her dreams—a lovely lady who intrigues me greatly.”
Clarissa watched speechless as her guest turned away from her, his eyes glowing bluish gold in the darkness of the hallway as he moved with the grace and stealth of the cat.
“Who is this man?” she pondered, shaking her head from side to side as she retreated into her bedroom. “He seems like something from another world.” She paused here, adding as she nestled with a dreamy smile into the sheets of her comfortable bed, “A world I’d quite like to visit sometime. And soon.”
***
Since the time of her childhood Clarissa always had loved the scent of new books, especially those that came emblazoned with her own name.
Sitting at the center of an airy clean lined bookstore known as Rhonda’s Reads, she stared with pride and joy at the small tower of books that sat at the center of a checkerboard card table; also smiling bright at the long line of people ready to buy the newest release from their favorite romance author.
Flanking her at the table were her two assistants for the day: Carver the Cover Model, dressed for the part in a pair of sinful tight blue jeans and a sculpting black net tee—his lustrous hair falling full and loose across the breadth of his muscled shoulders; and Rhonda the bookstore owner, a petite brunette who really seemed to take a shine to Carver the Cover Model.
“So Carver, where has been Clarissa hiding you all this time?” she asked, adding as her green eyes took a blatant walk down the length of his sculpted, muscular form, “I daresay he is even more gorgeous that that blond hunk you used for the cover of “Sensual Passions”—and by God, that’s saying something!”
Carver chuckled.
“Why thank you Ma’am,” he told Rhonda, gracing her with a polite smile as he kept his gaze trained on a grinning Clarissa; averting his gaze only to inspect their surroundings and watch out for anything unusual.
Rhonda giggled.
“You’re more than welcome,” she replied, adding as she tossed her long silky hair to flirtatious effect, “So tell me Carver, just how does your girlfriend feel about your career as a cover model?”
Clarissa gritted her teeth, bracing herself for the answer to this rather forward line of questioning. She hoped against hope that Carver didn’t have a girlfriend; and that if he was indeed unattached, that he was not considering Miss Size Two If She Was Even That Bookstore Owner as a prime candidate for this particular position.
She took in her breath seconds later, as her adoring companion reached down to kiss the frown right off of her lips; lingering for just a moment as his full warm lips stroked and massaged her own.
Standing outright with a dazzling smile, Carver made a broad gesture in the direction of a shocked Clarissa as he told an equally shocked Rhonda, “Well my girlfriend might indeed have a major problem with my career as a cover model—if indeed it wasn’t her books that my image was adorning…or contaminating, depending on how you look at the situation.”
Rhonda gaped.
“Oh!” she replied, adding as she met a blushing Clarissa in a spirited high five, “You go Girl!”
Several more happy hours passed before the crowd dispersed; leaving only a single book on the table as Rhonda grabbed it up in her hands.
“A gentleman dropped this book off earlier today,” she told Clarissa, presenting a shiny new copy of “A Love of Snowbirds”—the author’s newly minted Christmas release—for her inspection. “He said that he couldn’t make it to the signing, but that he’d love to have you sign this for him.”
The bookstore owner gasped outright as a somber Carver ripped the book hard from her hands and thumbed through its pages with a furious flourish, releasing as he did a bizarre foreign object that most literally flew from its interior.
The bizarre concoction of feathers and paint descended with a thump on the surface of the table beneath them; revealing itself to be a harmless stuffed animal—but, or so Clarissa assumed, strangely altered from its original form.
This sleek feathered ivory bird had been coated from head to toe in a thickened coat of blood red paint; a makeshift arrow protruding from its chest as the bird looked up at the author with an eerie angelic smile.
“That bastard!” Clarissa screamed, jumping up from the table as a protective Carver threw his arms around her and pulled her to him. “How could he?”
“Why Clarissa. Is that any way to speak of your most devoted fan?”
Freezing in her lover’s arms, Clarissa felt cold chills assailing her spine as she heard an all too familiar voice; then she raised her head to stare into the face that filled her nightmares.
Although a short, plump man with an unassuming face, Roger Kelly nonetheless regarded her with a squinty-eyed glare that struck terror in her heart.
“Call the police!” Clarissa demanded, waving a wide-eyed Rhonda into the store as Carver release
d her from his encompassing embrace. “I must insist, Roger, that you leave this property immediately. Just leave me alone!”
Backing up her words with a good dose of action, Carver jumped in a single graceful stride above the surface of the table, tackling a screaming Roger and pinning him to the ground with a ferocious growl.
Clarissa almost joined Roger in his hysterical reaction as she witnessed the bizarre transformation that overtook her lover; his cool azure eyes now glowing fire red, his mouth flying open to reveal a set of sharp pointed teeth.
“Fangs?” she wondered vaguely, adding with an awkward shrug, “Since when?”
Oblivious to her shock, a determined Carver pinned his rival to the ground with two strong hands that now likened claws; poising his fangs just over Roger’s throat as he released in an inhuman growl, “Leave her alone or pay with your life, you monster!”
All threat and anger escaping his being in one swift instant, a terrified Roger struggled to free himself from Carver’s iron clad grip.
“Fine, I’ll leave her alone!” he squeaked. “Just let me go! Please let me go!”
Apparently unsatisfied with this answer, her protector balled his claw into a fist and delivered three hard strikes to Roger’s round chin; making the weaker man squeal with pain as the two men scuffled on the ground beneath them.
Finally regaining his bearings, a petrified Roger arched his left leg and delivered a solid kick to his attacker’s groin; making Carver howl with pain as he broke free of his grasp and sprang to his feet.
“I--I promise I won’t bother you anymore,” he told a gaping Clarissa, turning on his heel and running from the scene with quick, frenzied steps.
“Yeah? Well just make sure of it!” she managed finally, glaring after him as he disappeared from view.
Snorting in the face of his cowardice, the befuddled author ran to the side of her fallen lover; kneeling to behold a face that shone once again as a beacon of sheer masculine perfection.
